Il y a quelque chose qui manque...

As I sit on the pier to nothing, I contemplate what I am doing.

While I enjoy the friendship of the seasons

I trust that nothing can make life a burden for me.

Happy Birthday, Phillip. ( I know that you hate this common misspelling of your name. It's intentional.)

Today has been an unusual day. It began with a desire to sleep for as long as I could humanly withstand the dark. I surrendered. I raised my white flag to combat the melancholy.

The salon introduced me to her might. She raised her strong hands. She taunted me, she slowly plowed her fists of malcontent into my visage. She ruined me. I coyly handed her my white flag, doused in crimson paint. I don't need it any longer, I said.

My mother called. I spoke with her. It was cordial. Hello? Hey, is Ian with you? No. Where are you? I'm at a coffee shop. Where is he? He's at grandma's, he said he needs to do some stuff around her house tomorrow. Oh. She sniffles. You always take their side. -silence-

I throw in that dingy white flag one last time.

Merry Christmas to all, and to all a good night.